


Inevitable

by roundelet



Series: chubby sterek oneshots [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Baker Stiles Stilinski, Businessman Derek Hale, Chubby Kink, Chubby Stiles, Insecure Stiles, M/M, Weight Gain, belly love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-08
Updated: 2016-10-08
Packaged: 2018-08-20 07:37:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8241512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roundelet/pseuds/roundelet
Summary: Intellectually, Stiles knew that Derek couldn’t be stupid enough to expect to find a six-pack under his shirt. But Stiles wasn’t exactly comfortable with the not-so-little gut he’d acquired since he and Scott had opened their bakery last fall. And he definitely wasn’t comfortable with the hottest guy in New York ogling it.





	

“So I should. I mean, it’s getting late. Thanks for dinner?” Stiles cringed at himself as he made to leave. Only to find Derek blocking the front door.

“Thanks for coming,” Derek said, but didn’t show any signs of moving out of the way. His light eyes were locked on Stiles.

“Um,” Stiles said. But then Derek hooked his fingers through the waistband of Stiles’s jeans, tugged him forward, and kissed him.

It took Stiles a moment to get with the picture, but when he did, he grabbed Derek’s shoulders and kissed him back with the tension brimming between them for weeks. The force of Stiles’s enthusiasm had Derek stumbling back into the door. Derek might have been all muscle, but Stiles was all too aware, after furtively stepping on Allison’s bathroom scale the weekend before, that he probably gave Derek a run for his money in actual weight.

Derek still held Stiles by the loops of his jeans. The rough pads of Derek’s thumbs stroked small circles over Stiles’s soft sides. But before Stiles could process that Derek was touching his chub, Derek worked his mouth down Stile’s jaw. And Stiles was, again, too turned on to care that it was the softened underside of his chin that Derek’s stubble was scraping against. Stiles tilted his head to the side. Blunt teeth grazed his neck. He shuddered and his hands slipped down from Derek’s shoulders to grip the taut curves of his biceps.

“Oh my god, Derek, why haven’t we been doing this all along?”

Derek’s lips curved against Stiles’s neck and he released his grip on Stiles’s jeans. The callused tips of Derek’s fingers stroked forward around his waist. Derek’s hands pressed into his belly and–

Stiles jerked back. At Derek’s confused stare, Stiles said, “Nothing. I just. Ticklish?”

Derek gave him a frown and Stiles hastily stepped back in to kiss him again. At least the distraction had served to get Derek’s hands off his middle. But his relief was short-lived because now Derek was tugging upward at the hem of Stiles’s shirt.

Stiles snatched his shirt out of Derek’s hands and tugged it back down to cover his stomach.

“I’m sorry,” Derek was saying. His dark brows were drawn together. “It was just dinner, I didn’t expect anything. I just thought you wanted this, too-–”

“I do! I do,” Stiles corrected him quickly. He grabbed at Derek’s henley to keep him from moving away. He could feel his hard pecs under his knuckles. He glanced down at himself. His Avengers t-shirt had once been his largest shirts. When he’d seen it at the store, he’d wanted it enough that he’d bought it even though it was at least a size too large. But now it actually strained across his rounded middle. He couldn’t even blame it on dinner, since he’d barely picked at his food, not wanting to draw attention to his eating.

“Then what--”

“I want all the things,” Stiles interrupted, kissing him again.

“Fuck. Okay. Yes,” Derek groaned into his lips. “But I want to see you, Stiles.”

Intellectually, Stiles knew that Derek couldn’t be stupid enough to expect to find a six-pack under his shirt. But Stiles wasn’t exactly comfortable with the not-so-little gut he’d acquired since he and Scott had opened their bakery last fall. And he definitely wasn’t comfortable with the hottest guy in New York ogling it.

And, in any case, the light from Derek’s dining room was really bright and Stiles was pretty sure that the sexy-times mood wouldn’t survive the reality of his pale round belly displayed in its full glory. Hell, even he didn't want to see that. Stiles had been carefully avoiding undressing in front of mirrors ever since the first time he'd had to size up his pants.

“Uh. You first,” Stiles said by way of distraction.

Derek gave him a smirk and pulled off his shirt without even a pause.

“Oh, shit.” There was no way this was real. Had Stiles fallen asleep? Had he dreamed up this whole night? Because it wasn’t like he’d been oblivious to Derek’s broad shoulders, the way his biceps strained against his leather jackets, his thighs in those jeans. The opposite of oblivious, really. But the reality was so much more. And. God. Not to mention his abs. “I am so not prepared for this.”

“Stiles.” Derek sounded amused. Stiles shook his head to clear it. He came back to himself with the realization that he had, in his distraction, raised his arms to help Derek tug his shirt off.

Derek was looking him up and down now. Stiles opened his mouth to say something, anything, to deflect Derek’s attention from where his abs and Stiles’s flabby belly were barely an inch apart. But then Derek’s eyes were back on his, dark and… hungry?

Derek kissed him. Messier, sloppier than before. Stiles felt strong hands clutch his shoulders and then somehow it was Stiles shoved back against the front door. Stiles clutched at Derek anywhere he could reach. Derek sucked on his tongue and Stiles heard a loud, embarrassing moan come from his own throat.

Derek had a bruising grip on Stiles’s hips now. He thrust a thickly muscled thigh between Stiles’s legs and Stiles all but yelped at the friction against his cock. His jeans were getting uncomfortably tight, and not around the waist like usual. Stiles could feel Derek’s own hard cock grind against his hip. His belly squished against Derek’s hard abdomen, and –

Turn off. Turn off. Turn off. Fuck. He could feel his cock instantly soften and never had Stiles regretted delicious donuts more than at that very moment.

Derek pulled back, panting like this had been a workout. Stiles felt his belly jiggle at the movement and he cringed hard.

“Stiles.” Derek’s eyes were still a little wild. “What is it? Please tell me what I’m doing wrong.”

“Nothing.” Stiles slumped back against the door and closed his eyes.

“Then what–”

“You’re perfect. I just.” Stiles shook his head and opened his eyes again. “Why are you even here?”

“What? This is my apartment.”

“Derek, you’re perfect,” Stiles repeated accusingly. He looked down meaningfully, at where the flab of his belly hung over his jeans. “Have you even seen me? Working in a bakery is obviously taking its toll.”

Derek’s eyes flicked down to Stiles’s middle and he actually had the gall to look relieved.

“Yeah. Maybe a little,” Derek agreed, lips twitching. And, ouch? Even though Derek qualified it with, “But you look good.”

Stiles let out a strangled laugh, and said, “Dude, don’t lie to me. I’ve put on at least ten pounds since the first time you came into my bakery. And it wasn’t like I was exactly skinny before that.”

“Yeah,” Derek agreed with a shrug.

But Stiles had never met a self-defeating argument he could resist, so he pressed on. “I had to get new jeans last weekend because I couldn’t even button in my biggest pair anymore.”

“So?” Derek’s hands crept up from Stiles’s hips to the roll of his muffin top.

“So?” Stiles repeated incredulously. Because Derek was acting like his hands weren’t currently touching the evidence of why exactly he was so far out of Stiles's league. Like he hadn’t just been able to feel Stiles’s belly squishing against his flat abs.

But maybe Derek wasn’t as smart as Stiles had given him credit for, if he didn’t know that someone who looked like him dating someone who looked like Stiles was against every known law of the universe.

“Look.” Stiles could hear his voice rising in pitch and volume. “I taste tested three of the new cardamom donuts this morning, and then I had leftover raspberry custard pastries for lunch because they won't last and I can’t just throw them out.”

“Your custard ones are good,” Derek murmured. He stroked his hands up Stiles’s torso, then down over the top curve of Stiles’s belly.

Stiles let out a strangled laugh. “That’s so not the point and you know it. Look. It’s not like I want to get fat, but it’s pretty much inevitable at this point.”

He was sure that was going to be the argument winner. Maybe Derek was okay with Stiles being a little chubby now, but imagining him getting fatter than this would definitely be a deal breaker.

Except that Derek just kissed him softly, even as his palms still pressed into the flesh of Stiles’s belly, and said, “Okay.”

“Okay?” Stiles flailed as well as he could when he still was trapped between Derek and the door. “I’m really not following this conversation.”

“Then I can summarize.” Derek pulled back to meet Stiles’s eyes. His hands stroked down to where Stiles’s belly was softer, flabbier. Stiles thought this would be a really good time for the ground to open up and swallow him. But it didn’t, and Derek continued, “You’re trying to scare me off because you don’t think I can handle a few extra pounds.”

Stiles hadn’t thought about it that coherently, but he supposed that was right. After all, he’d rather not have Derek at all than have him and then lose him when he realized how close Stiles was to crossing that two hundred pound mark. (Like, really close, according to Allison’s scale. Maybe just one more donut away. Probably that third cardamom one from the morning, actually.)

“Is it working?” Stiles asked weakly.

“You’re an idiot.” Derek’s lips quirked as he gave the roll of Stiles’s belly an affectionate squeeze and leaned in to kiss him again.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on my tumblr. Come say hi! [http://roundelet.tumblr.com](http://roundelet.tumblr.com/)


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